Mrs. Dalloway's Coffee Break

I ordered Reese Witherspoon’s brand-new book, a recipe and lifestyle opus Whiskey in a Teacup, as soon as it hit the Internet bookstands. I had been a dedicated follower of many a recipe and lifestyle account on Instagram for quite a while already, not to mention fashion, (here’s to you fellow Kinks fans, I just know you were dying for it) and naturally, being a woman in the arts and a movie and a book fan and just simply a fan of the fabulousness that is Reese Witherspoon, I had all three of her accounts on Follow. Therefore, I was long aware of her book coming out before it did and was an easy target for her marketing campaign. Christ, I even had the date of the appearance of the book marked in my calendar; it is one of three major book premieres of my personal fall season of new books – what the other two are, stay tuned! My journey with Reese started without really realizing it had. She was one of those pretty new faces in late Nineties cinema, your basic Southern belle w

Olen luonasi silloinkin kun sataa kun on aikainen aamu ja olen vihainen sinulle tai kun minulla on kiire enkä oikein ehtisi tai kun kirjoitan tiedät kuinka vihaan keskeytyksiä Jack Nicholson Hohdossa sitten näen sinut eteisen oviaukossa menossa vessaan minä istun keittiössä muistikirja auki ja romaani luen ja juon teetä sitä mitä ostimme Porvoosta kulkiessasi ohi vilkaiset minuun ja hymyilet en ehdi vastata olet jo mennyt katson ikkunasta variksia ja kuusen latvaa hymyilen se on sinulle vaikka et näe sitä. (Sormiharjoitelma runoksi/Finger poetry.)

Mirabelle felt her head expand with air, as the laughter, the hysterics, made way to deep embarrassment that was not without a spiteful undertone. She hadn’t been guilty of stealing Miriam’s precious necklace, no, Mamie had lost the heavy silver and green thing all by herself in a drunken stupor on the night of her big opening. But the waiter had given it to Miri, saying he seemed to remember the beautiful woman in their group wearing it when they were last there, as if Mirabelle did not fit into that category and wasn’t beautiful at all, and that comment, somehow, paired with Mamie’s rude commentary on the blue collar workers and never ever wanting to sink so low as to have a job as a waitress, in total disregard of Miri belonging to that exact class and in fact doing exactly that for a living, despite her writing habit, oh, Mamie made her feel like a rank dilettante, a half-assed amateur, an embarrassing country sibling not to be taken seriously at all, and all that eye-rolling to